Widows
by pottachu
Summary: Knives contemplates the human female. How does he behave when being pursued? Or when one leaves him with more than a conversation? A oneshot based on Knives' thoughts while sitting at a cafe with his brother, interacting with females.


"Those girls keep looking over here, Knives." My brother pointed out to me.

We were sitting at a café; an old human owned this place. Vash enjoyed the soup here. Once he told me it reminded him of someone, but I gave no inclination that I was interested in his story.

Two females sat far away from us at another circular table, but because the café was so desolate, we could see them perfectly. They carried the idealistic curves for spiders. Their blond hair had been superficially curled and dyed. Long and sinister, their legs crossed and with extensive false eyelashes, they winked in our direction.

"Do you want to go talk to them?" Vash asked.

My glance tore away from them. Once again I wondered what kind of life my brother was living. I wondered if he was somehow the one interested in the females. By now I would have assumed he knew better than to ask me such questions. That small determined spider at our house was chemically attracted to him- I had known for nearly a year. Yet my brother's affection for her was opaque and equivocally undecided. One day he would wake up to his circumstances. When that moment would take place could only be determined by his pride. Even he should be knowledgeable enough about these creatures. Female spiders were known to entice, to persuade, they were even known to digest their lovers. After using him to fit her needs, the female spider took care to entangle her partner in his own web. Then she proceeded to eat him.

This would happen to Vash sooner or later. The spider will one way or another eat his fragile self identity, leaving him desolate and hallow.

"They're coming over here," he announced.

I remained silent, watching the humans move closer on the surface of his eye. Now their pale skin had a tint of sea-green and their legs looked elongated in proportion to their body.

Vash diverted his eyes back to his soup. His lids shadowed his visionary spheres, disintegrating my view of the spiders.

"Do you guys come here often?" The voice was saccharine, exaggerated like its owner.

"Once in a while," Vash answered with his uncanny kindness.

I felt the women's eyes rest on me, but I continued to stare at the garnished wall behind my brother, unresponsive.

"What's your name?" One asked me.

Slowly my eyes found hers. I stared into her blue blank eyes, and she stared flirtatiously back. She seemed so little, so insignificant and fragile, yet somehow she possessed the power to control the man in front of me. Most females did provoke a sudden spontaneous attitude in my brother.

"Knives," I replied.

"Sounds dangerous," the other woman commented, leaning closer to me. Of course with her unintelligent perspective, she thought the name as some sort of alias.

I stared into her auburn eyes and said nothing.

"Do you like danger?" She asked

"That's irrelevant." I answered

She looked surprised and then satisfied with my comment. "You sound like a mysterious person… I like a little mystery." Her tone had changed. A dash of seductiveness was in it, adolescent flirtation.

"Me too," the other female told me. Her nimble bony hand dared rest on my shoulder, its light frail weight barely disturbing my fabric.

My eyes leisurely found Vash across from me. Nervousness occupied his face. His keen visionary spheres looked uncomfortably back into mine. I knew his line of contemplation well. Just by studying his predictable face I could hear his thoughts of worry. This territory was new. A female human had placed herself before me with another at her side, and Vash was anticipating, worrying over how I would react.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" The first asked me.

I said nothing, sitting serenely still while my brother shifted uneasily in his seat. He wore that expression, that sentimental dramatic life-threatening expression that said _danger, run._

"We're not busy," the auburn-eyed female told me. She leaned closer to me and I could feel her body warmth; corrupted blood pulsed through her organs.

"We actually have a lot of work to get done tonight."

Finally. I had wondered how much time Vash could let elapse before his fear of me got the better of him

"We're both really busy," he told them.

"That's too bad." The blue-eyed spider spoke. Her desecrated hand lightly grasped my shoulder. As she pulled her face closer to mine I watched my brother's fearful look turn into one of terror. Her cheap lips kissed my untarnished skin, just below my eye. I stared at Vash as natural emotions lurked in my flesh. My stomach darkened and my chest felt heavy. Even my body was naturally subject to these masculine side effects, this tingling and drive that only femininity could bring upon me. I displayed no emotion as I continued to stare into my brother's twitching face. No brush of humility, attraction, or desire rested on my cheeks.

The blue-eyed spider slipped a torn piece of gray paper into my hand.

"If you're not busy sometime, get a hold of me," she said.

Her body warmth and the warmth of the other left me and I heard them depart. I heard the door of the café slowly shut.

I slipped the paper to Vash. It was adorned with an address from somewhere in town. I didn't need the information. I didn't need the creatures. The females already had a large collection of former male spiders, carcasses displayed in the attic of this address, the exoskeletons still brittle and empty. Cannibalism was vulgar enough, almost worse than feeding off butterflies. That's how the carnal life was with humans. Their perfections had diminished long before my arrival, dated back to the fall of Adam.

The door of the café opened again. Vash's eyes darted to the entrance, but I could tell by the sound of footsteps that it was that women, that little determined spider who shared our lives so closely. She was shorter than the former spiders of this café, more expressive and not quite so saccharine. These attributes made her more of a threat to my brother's well being.

Vash's eyes rested on her and then returned to the gray paper. I watched him hesitate for a moment, glance at the female human, and then let the gray slip of paper fall into the last of his soup. The crumpled scrap disintegrated in the broth until its contents were fully eradicated.

I observed the two when the human came to our table. Their actions and reactions were so predictable. This spider was devious.

I caught myself dozing slightly on the last two humans that were at our table and their actions. After my stomach turned I demanded my attention be redirected.

Some spiders are worse than others. Some are more cunning and sly. Some weave webs out in the open sunlight while others lay and wait in their partner's home. Laying in secret until the opportune moment of satisfaction, when suffering and disappointment play out a perfect death, when the inside organs are at their fullest ready for harvest, and when their actions can slowly drag out a hallowing to create a long and painful death of self identity. One day this will happen to Vash.

My brother was watching her intently, still. A sliver of affection shined in his eyes.

History has a way of repeating itself, of spiders hallowing out my brother repeatedly and thoroughly, of a woman who made him loose his self identity. And whether tomorrow or the years to come, this spider would too. She would entice and nurture him until she too would inflict the wrath of mortality on him and leave him hallow inside his exoskeleton, his wings broken and frayed. I refuse to fall into this, but no matter how many times my brother will fall victim to it, I must be there to reassure and pick him up until his eyes are unclouded. Until the day his arrogance will be pushed aside.


End file.
